


Hold On

by SBG



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1570406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBG/pseuds/SBG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny sees a video.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene for 4.21, with vague-ish references to prior tag Collateral Damage - you don't have to read that one to get this one, really.

The two intimidating men stationed at the far side of the infirmary and the blank stares that came with them got unnerving very quickly once Steve drifted back into fitful sleep. Danny would like nothing more than to crawl onto the cot next to Steve’s and take a nap himself, but he couldn’t do that. The flight from Honolulu had been grueling, uncomfortable and his physical exhaustion was only slightly less overwhelming than his emotional fatigue, but he was still on duty. He would be on duty until they touched down on American soil.

There had been no doubt in his mind, the second he’d heard Catherine string the words Steve and Taliban together in the same sentence he knew he’d find his way to the Middle East. It was North Korea all over again as far as his emotions were concerned, only this time he couldn’t be a direct part of the operation. Danny had had a wild, frantic thought about what one should wear for the occasion of watching a military surgical strike and rescue. Layers, that was what he’d come up with. Burrow down, hide from the fear beneath suit coat, sweater, shirt. That brief moment of panic was all he’d allowed himself before he boarded a plane filed with guys almost as certifiable as Steve…

Who shifted on the cot, moaned. Danny was not proud to say he was relieved he didn’t know the specifics of the torture Steve had endured. What little he’d gotten out of Steve after Wo Fat had been enough to disrupt his sleep on and off for months. The thought of the Taliban and the very physical evidence they’d left behind made him want to hurl. He grasped Steve lightly, carefully, on the arm. He had to hold on, so Steve knew he wasn’t alone.

“Shh,” he said, stupid and inane, like he were soothing Grace when she was little and not a grown man just rescued from horrific torture and certain death. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Steve settled, brow furrowing. With half his face bruised and swollen, he didn’t look like the same person. Danny supposed that, in fact, was true. He knew better than most the act Steve put on, how so many things in his life had shaped him, changed him in ways that couldn’t always be readily seen behind the bright, quick smiles. This wasn’t going to be any different, and with Catherine out there somewhere still. Danny’s stomach clenched. He rubbed his thumb absently against Steve’s forearm. 

No, Danny had had zero doubts in coming here, willing to do anything for Steve. He’d only had the time for doubt to crop up a few minutes ago, when he was reminded very pointedly that _Steve_ had come all the way over here for _Catherine_. The first thing Steve had done was ask about Catherine. Danny took a deep breath and shook his head; it hadn’t taken him long at all to start second guessing this thing he thought … no thought, did have with Steve. He wanted so much to see this as Steve doing what he’d do for anyone, except Catherine wasn’t just anyone. Catherine was the gorgeous ex-girlfriend and shit if that didn’t make him insecure so fresh into his own shift in relationship with Steve. He didn’t realize he must have tightened his grip until Steve twisted toward him, let out a pained grunt.

“Danny?” Steve mumbled.

“Sorry,” Danny said, relaxing his hand. He leaned closer, speaking softly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Danny.” Steve’s good eye was watery and clearly not tracking much, but he pulled his arm free, reached up to run the back of his fingers along the side of Danny’s face. “You’re here, so I’m okay. I’m good.”

Danny’s heart thumped so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest. He took Steve’s hand in between his, lowered it back down to the cot, and just held on for a few moments. His internal worry machine realigned to the correct setting, something Steve had always managed to help him with whether he knew it or not. He frowned at Steve’s misshapen nose, the trauma written all over him that he knew had to be far, far deeper than the surface. He wanted to make that all go away, fix Steve. He wasn’t sure how, thought about Steve telling him to just be him. He smiled and rested his elbows on his knees. He glanced over at their guards, who were still staring as impassively as ever at the wall behind him. He pursed his lips and tried to ignore them. Somehow he didn’t think this was the appropriate place to do what he simply being him would do – trace his fingers over every inch of Steve to make sure all of him was solid. 

As rough as his partner looked now, Danny would never, ever be able to erase that first sight of Steve on that stretcher from his mind. The vivid memory of it made him glad he wasn’t standing, because his legs might not hold him. He’d seen a lot of terrible things in his life, but Steve lying there so limp and strangely small ranked pretty high. When he’d heard the words _the package is secure_ , he’d been so relieved he hadn’t considered that secure did not mean okay. It had slammed into him so hard, seeing Steve like that. 

He closed his eyes, let his head hang down. His head cracked and his shoulder muscles protested, both signs he didn’t need to know that was carrying stress. He wriggled on the stool, which was becoming more uncomfortable the longer he sat. He really should move around for a few minutes, but he didn’t want to leave Steve. He studied his partner, watching for signs of distress. He hadn’t spent more than a week, week and a half total in Steve’s bed, but in that time he’d already come to recognize the signs. Those hints of what lay beneath Steve’s surface was something they’d yet had a conversation about, though both of them knew it would happen. 

It wasn’t going to happen here, though. Nothing but them getting the hell out was going to happen here. Steve looked to be deeper in sleep and Danny also realized he needed to find a bathroom, do some business, splash some cold water on this face, find some caffeine to keep himself awake and alert for both of them. He stood and leaned close to Steve’s ear.

“I’ll be right back,” Danny whispered. 

Steve turned his head slightly toward him, but didn’t otherwise respond. Danny almost kissed Steve’s forehead before he went, but considering the dressing down his partner had just gotten on Cath’s behalf, he didn’t want to add any fuel to the fire. The repeal of problematic legislation was one thing; how it was handled in the field was different, and he was in fucking Afghanistan. He nodded at the masters-at-arms as he walked by, mimed where he was going. One of them nodded back, neither spoke. Danny wondered briefly about the men behind their facades, but didn’t linger on that thought. They were there to do a job, just like he was.

Danny found what passed for facilities, and that splashing his face was a luxury he was going to have to live without for a while longer. It felt good to move about, loosen his muscles, even if for just short while. The draw of Steve was stronger, though, and he didn’t feel comfortable wandering too freely on the base. Up until now, the free rein he had was a blessing. He thought the ultimatum tossed at Steve back there also extended to him being present here, that whatever strings Joe had pulled to allow Danny to fly unquestioned on a military transport into a reasonably hostile zone had been cut. 

Not that it mattered. Danny only had one place he wanted to be, and he wanted to get back to it before Steve woke up alone.

As he passed the operations station, he heard something that halted him in his tracks. A voice punctuated with anger and conviction, arrogance in the tone that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Danny was in the room without making a conscious decision to enter. The room had only a few others in it, but he didn’t pay them attention, had eyes only for the screen. It was Steve on his knees, held with his arms outstretched, covered in blood and sweat and filth, surrounded by men. It was the one behind Steve, holding a nasty-looking blade that spoke.

_“…a nation of infidels and now let this man’s death be a lesson to you all.”_

Danny heard Steve’s shouts, saw him fight for his life with every fiber of his weakened being and he also saw that Steve was not going to … but he did, he had survived. Danny winced at the increasing desperation in Steve’s moves and that cries of anguish and defeat. Jesus. He choked on his distress, bile at the back of his throat. He shuffled back, turned his face as the shooting began, too weak to watch any more. Jesus, it had been _that close_. His legs went wobbly, he barely kept his feet. He had never seen Steve so utterly terrified before, hadn’t permitted himself to think it was possible. He bumped into something, spun around to find it was someone. The CIA asshole.

“Don’t you think you want to tell us who gave McGarrett the intel that got him into that situation?” the asshole said.

Behind him, the gunfire ended and in the brief void of noise Danny started hearing a low hum in his ears. His first instinct was to punch the everloving shit out of the guy, his hands curling into tight fists. He took several shaky breaths, staved off the nausea and anger both.

_“Are you Steve McGarrett?”_

_“Yes?”_

God, Steve. Danny’s chest felt tight, his breaths now measured and shallow. He needed to not be here anymore. He needed this smug bastard to get out of his face.

“You played that intentionally so I would see it,” Danny said lowly. “You waited until the right moment, and you think that’s going to make me tell you what I don’t know?”

“Oh, you know. You know who put you on that plane and you know who else was involved in Commander McGarrett’s ill-advised and unsanctioned operation.”

Danny shook his head and pushed by, stopped by a hand on his bicep.

“Williams, I’m giving you the chance to the right thing,” Mr. CIA Man said. 

Danny twisted around just far enough to see the frozen image of Steve on the ground, hands up and face contorted into a confused mask, surrounded now by SEALs rather than Taliban. He couldn’t unsee any of it, and now that weak-kneed feeling he’d had seeing Steve so bloody and small seemed like a walk in the damn park. Jesus, he’d only witnessed it, hadn’t lived it. 

“I _am_ doing the right thing, you fucker,” Danny hissed. “You’re going to back off and not try what is tantamount to emotional torture of a civilian as long as we’re still here, unless you want some bad press.”

“That’s an idle threat and we both know it.” The guy smiled, looked faintly ghoulish. “Emotional torture is a bit of an exaggeration, but you do live up to your reputation for dramatics.”

Fucking fuck. Danny still couldn’t breathe. He snarled a few more angry words, he didn’t know what he actually said as he broke free from the hold on his arm and stalked out of there, somehow keeping his gait and pace steady. He heard Steve’s last, horrible cry replay again and again in his head, and he had to get to Steve, right now. He knew he wasn’t being rational and there was no way Steve was anywhere but where Danny had left him not ten minutes ago, but the need was so strong he couldn't do anything but follow his instinct.

He rushed into the infirmary and, sure enough, Steve lay there sleeping. This was such a mess, all of it. He’d know and Steve had known too, that this whole thing had been such a monumentally bad idea and he’d almost lost what was the second brightest spot in his life, one of only two things that could keep him going under the most extreme circumstances. He wished Catherine no ill will, but some dark, selfish part of him wasn’t in a hurry to see her again. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, but it was what it was. 

His hands hovered over Steve. Danny’s hesitation didn’t last. Screw it. He gently brushed his fingers over Steve’s face, lightly trailed over bruises and cuts. He was careful at first, but his movements grew more frantic as he checked Steve’s free arm, his torso. He wasn’t sure how far he would have gone – strip search, maybe – when Steve roused with a panicked yelp and jerked away from him.

“I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m sorry,” Danny said. He let go and backed up, but Steve’s hand shot out and grabbed his. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Steve looked at him warily, the confusion in his eyes clearing to understanding after only a few seconds. He blanched, looked away, but kept his hold on Danny’s hand. 

“You saw the video.”

“I did.” Danny squeezed Steve’s fingers. “Parts.”

“Then you know,” Steve said dully. “You know I’m…”

The words _a coward_ tripped across Steve’s features if not his tongue and Danny wanted to weep with how flat-out wrong they were.

“Mine. You’re alive because you fought so hard to be here and you’re _mine_ ,” Danny said, voice trembling and he didn’t give a shit who heard it. “Don’t you ever think otherwise, or we’re going to have a problem, you and I. I have never seen anyone want to survive more than you.”

The little speech drained him, left him panting and feeling manic. Danny needed Steve to understand that nothing would make him run away, but he didn’t know how to do any of this. He was out of his depth. The level of torture Steve had endured was one thing. That he’d faced his own mortality and had barely come through it was this huge, oppressive other thing.

“Danny, I love you,” Steve said, quiet and scared, but also sounding like he thought that should explain everything.

Danny let out a hysterical little laugh, slumped onto the uncomfortable stool and pressed his forehead against Steve’s abdomen. Steve tugged his hand free and Danny felt him begin toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers sure and familiar. He wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist and held on gently, but for all he was worth as well, remembering how only a few weeks ago they’d done almost this exact thing, in reverse. 

“I love you, too,” Danny said.


End file.
